Shared Chambers Series
by Mara93
Summary: This is a series of stories from Merlin season 5. These are all Arthur/Guinevere stories that are loosely connected from almost every episode of the season. I'll be adding to this regularly. It is called shared chambers because each story for the most part takes place within Arthur and Guinevere's private Chambers. / Shared Chambers Five: Completion, spoilers for 5.01-5.06
1. Departure

**Shared Chambers Series**

This is a set of loosely linked stories I've been writing for almost all the episodes of series 5. They're all done, except for 5.13 which I'm currently working on. They are all Arthur/Gwen fics that take place almost exclusively in their shared chambers, hence the name. I'll post each as regularly as I can.

**Shared Chambers: **_**Departure**_

**Rating: **T

**Spoilers:** Merlin 5.01 / If you have yet to see Merlin Series 5, you may want to wait to read this. Spoilers are only for 5.01 for this part.

Author's Note: I've made it part of my New Year Resolution to work on only a few fics at a time and first to complete all unfinished fics. So these are the fics I will be working on/posting as regularly as I can: **Shared Chambers:** finish it's last part / **Love Woven Between Two Territories:** write the remaining chapters, it's probably about halfway through now / conclude posting **Fragile Peace** here, which is done but being reedited for posting at FF Net / **Dragons & Daggers & Jewels:** needs one more part to be written / and **… Cycles of Love:** needs to be finished, a little over halfway now—I have received so many requests to continue/ kind words about this story that I am so grateful for. This was one of my first Merlin related stories and it still is one of my favorite to write. So yes, it will take time, but I do plan on finishing it. Thank you for not letting me forget this story that I really do love working on.

The room is still dark as she feels the movement and catches the shifting shadow. The hearth's glow is out, but still her eyes find it easy to accustom. It was little more than three years ago she lived in a much smaller dwelling in which any light from an imaginary hearth would have been a dream.

His silhouette is appealing for certain. It is muscled and lean, but for that stubborn paunch of stomach she now knows well. Although she understands why he wakes so early, she sighs with regret that he must go.

Which he hears.

"Guinevere?"

Pushing back the satin red outer covers and white golden inner ones, she sits up on the bed. Her fingers gather at her white, gold trimmed nightgown, the material brushing over her thighs appealingly.

Even in the dark he notices the abundance of feminine limbs that have closed over his waist before in moments of passion. He looks away from them, concentrating upon her face instead.

She bites at her bottom lip, scooting forward on her knees, holding possessively to his blonde strands of hair. "You're leaving now?"

He eyes her fondly, giving a moan as she pulls too hard, which she quickly appeases with a loving squeeze instead. "Getting ready. So we can be out of here by dawn's light."

She nods, lowering her hands, finding the sculpted planes of his chest. She caresses the nakedness with long meaningful strokes. 'You'll be careful?"

He stares at her lips for a moment, moving his head in. Kissing under her chin and around her neck, before answering, eyes closed. "I will be."

She is certain that passage through Annis's lands will keep him much safer. It was why she suggested it. But still she can't help but worry as she keeps intimately touching his chest.

There was a time these feelings were new and these actions were novel, juvenile and exciting. Now there is still a thrill and yet it is calmed by maturity. She knows where his scars of battle are. She can find the inflictions upon his skin with ease and history of understanding. She touches him with a solid foundation of familiarity.

As he does the same with her. Fingers climbing up and within the plunge of her nightgown. He caresses her tender breasts as his lips gently play upon her neck and collarbone.

"You sometimes are too daring on these missions. You worry so much for your men that you take chances."

She has a lot more to say than that, but he definitively hushes her as her fingers find that paunch of his stomach, glide over it and just a bit lower to where it commences, a man's mark. She's careful not to go further. This is not about sexual desire even though she has no rushes of embarrassment about that anymore. Hasn't for a good sum of years. It's just matched by how he only kindly strokes her breast, knowing making the gesture more handled would bring up her own passionate desires.

Basically she wants him to feel loved and fulfill her own need to touch him, feel him near. As she is aware he is doing the same with her constitution.

She gives a sigh, giving it up, pulling him close, holding tightly at his back. He gives his own, grasping her nightgown's material hard in his fingers.

She knew when she came into this it was how it would be. This truly is the price of marrying a ruler and not a farmer. If Arthur was nothing but a farmer he'd have to fear maybe bandit attacks and storms, not a woman of magic who hates him so much, hates his rule so much she will stop at nothing to see him dead and gain his throne.

Morgana is so dangerous now, so bitterly changed from the lady she once served that her appearance chills everyone.

His fingers lift under her braided hair, impatiently letting it out of its binds. She would laugh at his boyish egotistical urge if she wasn't so concerned. He prefers her hair down, loving its long ringlets. Yet she braids it at night to keep it from tangling into a mess in the morning. Especially with early wake up calls during times he's away, it is a necessity. Now he's ruined it though. She can just feel his satisfactory smile as his fingers frolic into what they have unbound.

And she allows it. Would allow him anything now as it could be weeks, possibly more than a month before she sees him again. It means the kingdom will be hers to command.

There was a time that made her feel nervous. Now she is entirely used to her role and ready to fulfill it. What it comes down to is that the kingdom must be protected and kept within good stead. While her husband, knights and Merlin are away that will be her duty, one she takes very seriously.

As if understanding that feeling, he whispers now, "The thing about these trips away is before I wasn't sure how Camelot would fare. Ever since marrying you, making you Queen though, I don't worry so much. You're too good at this."

She smiles at the compliment, hearing no more and not expecting it. Praise is nice, but never necessary. She is not so juvenile to need it and he must focus on the mission. Gwen pulls away a little and then brings her arms up and around his sides. She loves the warmth of his chest, and the smoothness of his skin, but for his scars, but for the fine lines of hair upon his chest. She moves her hands up over his breast, grazes at his nipples, hearing him murmur against her.

His eyes look down, upon, and he kisses her firmly, this time upon the lips. His tongue finds convolution with hers. His mouth opens more and he holds her pressingly, intimately, fervently. His mouth whispers nonsense words in between. And then hungrily finds hers again. Lips that ache with little liquid fire under his. She tastes like the sweet nature and heavenly juice of life. His head falls upon her shoulder, leaving her lips husbandly used, as his part and nip at her shoulder, tiny little love bite.

Gwen pushes at his head with a moan, sees his eyes fix on hers. "I can't delay any more."

It's like a solemn confession. She nods her head, kissing his lips one more time and then resting her hands upon his naked shoulders.

These are their shared chambers. It wasn't supposed to be this way. It hasn't been for many other rulers that she knows of. When this marriage started, according to tradition, he had a separate room made up for her. However, the first night they slept together. There has only been one night, during the times he is in Camelot, that they have slept apart.

It was after a fervent disagreement on his duty. That night, not letting the argument get too heated, she went to her room, leaving him alone to think. The next morning, after the sun started to find the sky and light it, they talked and made up privately, within these shared chambers.

If she's dressing for an occasion or whatnot she goes back to her own room where most her clothing is, but her nightgown is in the wardrobe she shares with him and so are a few of her dresses and robe. This is their combined room, where the intimacies of marriage are kept secret. This is where they share their love, and where she wants to hold to him tightly now.

But she will not for she respects who he is. More than three years ago passage through Annis's lands would not be so simple, unheard of really. The alliances they have built together though will afford him that now, thankfully. She doubts strongly that Annis will turn him away. The bond has been created.

Still her heart holds little prickles of worry and she can see in his eyes that he feels it. "I-

She shakes her head, presses her fingers against his lips as her other hand caresses his exposed chest. "No. My love. Tell me when you come back."

He smiles affectionately, finding her naked heart, pressing his own fingers tenderly there. He kisses her one more time, his mouth drinking in all she is. All he adores.

And she smiles bravely when he is done.

When he departs the room to ready himself more.

You'd think she would have gotten used to this already. Be sure that after his departure she will rule the kingdom with her total concentration upon the land. She will not weakly yearn for her husband to return. She has a role to fulfill in his absence and she always fulfills it entirely. Robustly.

However in the quiet moments of dining, in the intimate moments of laying down in their bed, finding one of his tunics and pulling it over her cold body to feel his warm presence, to smell his masculine scent, her heart will quake for his return.

Her king.

The man she loves.

Arthur Pendragon.


	2. Shield

**Shared Chambers: **_**Shield**_

**Rating:** T

**Spoilers:** For 5.01-5.02 / lots of speculation I had then too, this goes a little more AU as it deals with something that the show didn't bring up / a scene filler that could have fit in a bit before the show's last scene

**Author's Note:** Thank you for all your interest/comments. Much appreciated. More of these Chambers Stories to come…

**TTT**

He lifted away his tunic and she saw it vividly for the first time, just how bruised and mangled his body was from going after his men. Gwen sighed at it heavily, reaching her husband's side as he gave a small grunt of pain.

"Arthur."

He leaned into her. He couldn't act this way much of the time that they were escaping from Morgana's fortress. He had to be as strong as possible there, come to his sense and remind his brothers in arms that his servant still needed saving. Only when he was assured that Merlin too was safe, although just as banged up by Morgana's dark magic, Arthur could let out a breath of satisfaction. Of course then they had to make the arduous journey home through the snow flooded mountains.

Some of the men they found there had come back with them to Camelot. If they could prove their worth Arthur intended to knight them. One in particular.

As his wife's hands gently, but intimately slid over the purple mottling bruises, he closed his eyes and inquired, "Sefa betrayed us then?"

It was a simple question with no simple answer. Gwen shook her head, caressing her husband's face to get him to open his eyes and look. As he did, she helped him to sit upon the bed, grasping the pillows from behind. Getting them into place she coaxed him to their comfort. Salve and bandages during the trek had been used for the knife wounds, but Gaius said the bruises needed to heal. Arthur, like Merlin and Gwaine, would have to endure a bit of discomfort before they stopped plaguing so much.

"She did not want to. She made that clear. She did it for Ruadan, her father."

"Who nearly killed me and the rest of my men."

Gwen's lips pursed as Arthur's back pushed gingerly against the pillows. In her nightgown, she shook her head once more. "Well he is dead now."

"And Sefa?"

Gwen's face wrinkled with discontent. Although the plan had given her what Camelot would need, she felt no real joy from it. "I don't know. She must have fled. She is a smart girl, although a bit naïve. I'm sure she's taken refuge."

Arthur gave a bothered sigh. "Well her father did wrong. Deserved to die. No good can come from magic."

Gwen faced her husband pointedly, seeing his eyes tiredly shutting. She couldn't let him sleep yet though. This matter needed to be dealt with, especially after what she and Gaius found upon Ruadan's body. "You did not think that when you wanted to heal your father years ago."

Sure enough his eyes starkly opened. Arthur stared at his wife. "You throw that at me? That was an entirely different situation."

Gwen's lips fixed. "How? How was it so different?"

"Guinevere." Arthur gritted out through his teeth. "My father was the king of this land. He was a good-

She looked at him strongly. Arthur now knew about the time his father slapped her face. He had seen his father judge others wrongly too. And he agreed with her that her father never should have been sentenced to death.

"Well there's no comparison." He told her stubbornly.

Gwen let out a patient sigh, leaning forward to kiss her husband's lips, still chapped from the icy temperatures he had endured, rough against her soft ones. And yet she loved them. Like him. "I don't mean to start up a quarrel about your father." She told him afterward, fingers stroking his chest comfortingly. "But why must we start up one about hers? Sefa meant well. I know she did. She loved her father. Maybe he was misguided, but can you honestly say yours never was?"

"And yours?"

Gwen sighed. Uther had done horrible things, but nevertheless he was Arthur's father and he had loved his son. Her father, although never cruel, had made more than a few brash decisions. "Okay. He endeavored into things he shouldn't have. Too overzealous. I admit."

She ended her point with gentle reprimand. "Just temper your judgment my husband."

He smiled a bit, feeling the ease from her caressing fingers and her calm words. It was rare for Guinevere to get too passionate. It was why he relied so much upon her council. "I don't know if we can completely agree upon this. But I do know one thing. When all of the hard decisions had to be made, you made every single one with such strength of character. Camelot and I owe you much gratitude Guinevere."

She dismissed the praise silently, lying her body down gingerly upon one of the rare areas where her husband was not so hurt. Tenderly, she fingered his skin, the fine chest hairs. "I've missed you."

He kissed the side of her face, holding tightly to the back of her nightgown. "And I, you."

As she closed her eyes, finally relaxing, he said it.

"I'm grateful to be back here with you. So grateful to one person who made sure that would happen. I'm thinking of making him a knight."

Her eyes flew open. "What?"

Arthur smiled. "Mordred. He saved my life Guinevere. And Merlin's. Morgana, she would have-

Gwen's brow wrinkled as she sat up, back straight.

"What is it?"

Not hearing his question, Gwen wondered why it hadn't clicked together before. Now that it did, she felt a shudder ripple through her body.

"Guinevere?" Arthur started to reach out to her, but seeing the bandages stress at his movement, she pressed her palm firmly, and yet cautiously against his chest.

"No. Stay still."

"Oh." He groaned with discontent, wanting to know what was making her face look so full of thought now. "Guinevere."

Should she tell him? Their marriage had been based on trust since it began. They vowed after all that happened around the banishment they would always be forthcoming with each other.

"Do you remember how Mordred first came to Camelot?"

Arthur gave a nod of his head, not moving anymore, knowing she wouldn't approve. And wearied enough, still getting over some of the pain that keeping in one place wasn't too hard. "He came with that Druid man, his name er…"

"Cerdan." Gwen filled in, remembering sharply her mistress's concern for the boy, how she was willing to tarnish her relationship with Uther then. "After his execution, when Mordred was injured, Morgana was wild to help him. Arthur, I've never seen her like that. She told me they shared a bond. I saw it. That bond was so strong it eclipsed the one she had with Uther then."

"Morgana tried to kill my father, Guinevere."

She spoke to him patiently, leaning against the pillow some, hearing him grunt in discomfort and so her hand moved to massage his shoulder. "Yes. I know. But that was years later. After Mordred's arrival, even when she was not sure of his name she was so transfixed by him. Arthur…" She emphasized strongly now. "A bond."

His eyes feeling sort of heavy, her massaging putting him to rest, he felt her fingers stall now. Getting it suddenly, he opened his eyes. "You think Mordred has magic?"

Gwen held still.

Arthur shook his head fervently. "No. Guinevere that's impossible. If he had magic he would have used it to come after me and Merlin in the snow. To fight off Morgana in the caverns below. He saved my life. I didn't see it that clearly, but Merlin did. Mordred stabbed her. I don't think he killed her, but he hurt her with the knife, like she was hurting me. But when he did it the knife wasn't floating in the air. Mordred did it with his hands. Merlin told me. Am I supposed to think he lied?"

Gwen pressed her fingers against his shoulder comfortingly. "Of course not. That's not what I'm saying. It's possible Mordred does not have the same ability as Morgana. Maybe he doesn't know magic like her. He was only a boy when his guardian was executed. But Arthur, she shared a bond with him. I saw it so vividly. She would take any risk for him. Any."

Arthur thought about it, remembering. "You're right. But he broke that bond when he left her for dead. He left her there Guinevere after stabbing her."

Forehead furrowing, Gwen asked. "Or did he? Could it have been a ruse like I used for Sefa to get her father to come to Camelot? I mean my hand would have been forced if he didn't come, but I knew he would. Perhaps Mordred and Morgana simply wanted you to believe that one of them was on your side."

His head hitting the pillow, Arthur shut his eyes tight. Their kingdom had been full of peace for so long and now…this. "I have no quarrel with Mordred or any of the Druid people."

She held still, her hand once against ceasing movement over his shoulder. Gwen looked to the fire in the hearth, feeling Arthur's eyes open and narrowing in upon her profile.

"There's more, isn't there?" He asked wearily.

She hadn't wanted to tell him this, hadn't wanted to admit it to herself, but she took the news with analysis then and she would deliver it with the same strength of mind. "Ruadan had a special kind of note, a prayer really, a Druid one. Gaius was able to read it. The words told of the desire to end the life of the King of Camelot."

She swallowed hard, before whispering, "Your life Arthur. They believe that like your father, they can never have peace with you. So there is supposed to be one Druid who will fulfill that…prayer or prophecy. What if that is Mordred?"

"Oh Heaven's mercy." Arthur's head fell as he remembered the hatred in Morgana's eyes. In his uncle's eyes years ago. Family. And they hated him. Hated Camelot. Hated peace.

Gwen scooted in closer in response to his distress, clasping his cheeks with her hands. "Arthur."

"I don't hate Morgana. I didn't hate Agravaine. I have only wanted a kingdom where everyone is treated fairly. Just. And yet ithey/i hate me so much. Why?"

Gwen sighed in consolation. She knew his heart was so full, sometimes so much more trusting than hers. After Morgana's enchantment her mind had no choice but to grow shrewder. Although she still had compassion and kindness in her, Gwen was definitely more careful now.

She moved her fingers through her husband's hair, feeling at his forehead, just a tad feverish, after what he had endured. She'd keep a careful eye on him in the night.

"It is not you. It is what you stand in front of. It was the same with me. They want what you have. Morgana. Agravaine then. But the Druids."

"What?" He asked her strongly.

She let out a long sigh. "Arthur. Sefa was only doing her father's bidding. I could see her fear for her life and her love for her father. She was a good girl. He could not have been that much of a bad man. Maybe not at first anyway. It is true, we have done nothing to harm the Druids, but we also have not helped them."

His eyes were hard. "My father banned magic years ago Guinevere. I didn't always agree with him, but I have seen its evils too. The law must stand."

"I know." Gwen sighed. "My father was executed for the suspicion of magic. But we cannot be complacent then. We cannot just assume everyone will abide by our rule willingly. And we cannot let a young man into this kingdom openly who was associated with the woman who has become one of our greatest foes. We cannot, Arthur."

"So you're saying I don't knight him? Send him away?"

Gwen pondered on those words for a moment before giving a firm shake of her head. "No. You should knight him."

"What?" He asked her incredulously.

Gwen continued. "Arthur, if he is in alliance with Morgana, what better place to expose that than Camelot? Within the castle's walls Mordred wouldn't be able to move so freely. We could keep an eye on him."

"So we tell Gaius and-

She lifted her hand. "No. I don't think we should even tell the knights. Not yet. Not until there is any proof of this."

His hand lifted some, finding her waist, lingering on the material of her nightgown. "And what if there is no proof?"

Gwen smiled softly. "Then Camelot has a respected new knight. See Arthur, if we tell no one…"

He smiled a little too now finally. Even though so much of this was troubling, it helped to have a sharp wife to go over these crucial matters with. "Then no one will be the wiser. If there is no deception, we won't have to explain why we ever thought there was."

"Exactly." She leaned down to kiss those chapped lips. Yearning upward, he kissed her back, tangling his fingers into his wife's hair. His kiss grew more fervent, but then his muscles strained, his injured areas cried out complaint. He grunted away. Hearing it Gwen gave a sympathetic look and brought her fingers over his chest. Then she kissed his still slightly feverish brow. "You're tired." She whispered.

He only nodded his head, closing his eyes.

Gwen's look was one of mild concern. She would never completely get used to him being away for long periods, coming back with a collection of new scars. He was a warrior king, but sometimes he faced so much danger.

Even at home.

"Go to sleep my husband." She whispered against his cheek.

"Hmmm…"He murmured, gathering her nightgown's material within his fingers greedily. "You with me."

She lowered her head to his shoulder, feeling his hand still holding her close. Hearing his breaths come a little slower. Feeling his heartbeat reaching a pattern of rest. Her hand rose a little each time it showed its life.

She waited until his soft snores came and then moved to the bed's side, taking something out from a trinket box atop the nearby table. Running her fingers over the strange language, she let out a troubled sigh. The prayer was for the King to die at the hand of a Druid. Was it Mordred?

Gwen shook her head. She did not know. Whoever it was, she would do all she could to protect the kingdom and her husband.

She let the prayer fall out of her hands, back to the trinket box, closing it tight. Then she moved closer on the bed to Arthur, resting her cheek upon one of those less wounded areas again, feeling his forehead, a bit damp, but less warm. Thank goodness. "I will never let anyone hurt you Arthur." She whispered solemnly, kissing his chest. "As together we protect Camelot…you protect me…

I will shield you."

But the time of peace in Camelot was coming to its uneasy end. With Ruadan's death. With Mordred's return. With Morgana's madness. With the bloody past of bygone days.

As the ghost began to stalk

As Arthur's bane began to rise.


	3. Conviction

**Shared Chambers:** _**Conviction**_

**Rating:** T

**Word Count:** 2,809

**Warnings/Spoilers:** spoilers for series 5 / some mature situations in this one, non-explicit romance

**Author's Note:** This is a possible missing scene after Arthur blew the horn in 5.03. I loved the ep, but some more A/G could have been nice. Thanks so much for all your lovely feedback/interest.

**TTT**

**Shared Chambers:** _**Conviction**_

She was his wife. That's why he went to Gaius and got the permission finally to bring her to their shared chambers, the rooms that they dwelled in together, privately, intimately. That was why now he carried her in his arms. One hand gripped underneath her legs, feeling where her thigh started, not at all embarrassed by its feel. Not so boyish he was turned on beyond mature proportion. No. His hand simply grazed it with light possession. For she was his wife. His other hand pressed into her back, his fingers curving inward to keep her tightly and gently in his grasp.

It was a day since he blew the horn, pushed his father back into the netherworld, away from his broken heart. He missed him so greatly sometimes. But he learned something during his father's stalking of the castle.

If he lost her…

He'd miss her even more.

He pressed a kiss against her neck, lowered her slowly and softly to their shared bed. Then stroking the material of her dress, he frowned slightly. "No need for you to be in this anymore."

Making sure her head was resting upon the pillows, Arthur moved away from the bed. Going to the wardrobe, it took him little time to find where her nightgown was placed. Returning with it in hand, he sat down upon the corner, hands going around her waist, lifting carefully. She was sleeping so heavily because of the draught Gaius gave her. Although she had woken hours earlier while she was still in Gaius's care, she hadn't spoken much, dazed by the events.

Merlin told him that he found her upon the floor. Lying still. A fire blazing around her fallen body.

Arthur's body shivered. His breath choked some. How could his father do this? To the woman he loved?

Oh, he was no fool. He knew his father did horrible things, cruel terrible things. But if the spirit of him could see all he did to rule Camelot in his own way, he must have also seen how his son found love and was happy. Guinevere made him feel excited and at the same, at peace, and yet his father tried to kill her. It made so little sense. The only understanding he got from it was that he had to get rid of the ghost.

Finding the hooks on her dress now and undoing them one by one with the ease of a man who knew his wife's ware, who had undressed her before, Arthur brought it down her waist, away from her body. Underneath of course were the bindings women wore to make themselves even more beautiful than they were without.

Now Guinevere didn't need much help. She had the finest constitution of sensuous dips and curvature. He could see it all nakedly as he got the last of the inner clothing away. But now with her sleeping in his arms he just rushed to get her nightgown on. To keep her warm and comfortable. When that was done, when she was fully covered, he lay down beside her, blowing out the candles of light that were nearby.

His father thought she was nothing more than a servant girl. Disposable. How many times had his father shown that to him? No matter if she was lost or captured. They'd get another. Like she was the dress he just got her out of. Like she was clothing, not flesh and blood. It made Arthur shirk to think about. It was over three years ago he married her. And then everything was so new, kind of shaky after he banished her weeks ago. They were still finding their way through all their heavy hot stirrings of love.

She was adjusting his mother's crown with a look of wonder and maybe even fear.

He found her like that, here, in their shared chambers. He'd been looking for her from place to place after the ceremony was over of her coronation.

"_Guinevere." Arthur wrapped his hands around her waist from behind, feeling how his cloak brushed against his arms as he did so. His new wife gazed at their reflections in the mirror with what seemed a bit of nervousness and tension._

"_What is it?" He asked._

_She fingered the crown more, and then simply removed it from her head, turning to her new husband. "You said this was your mother's?"_

_Fondly running his fingers through her curls, thinking she looked beautiful in her lavender and golden dress, Arthur nodded. "Yes. Wore it when she married my father."_

_Guinevere gave a heavy sigh to that making Arthur ask with concern, "What? What did I say?"_

_She shook her head, pressing in against the chainmail covering his chest. He still needed to take it off. "Your father never would have approved of this marriage."_

_To that Arthur moved away to face her and get them away from the mirror's reflection. "What?"_

"_You know it's true. You marrying a servant girl? Uther never would have liked that."_

_He lifted his head, wanting to deny what she was saying, but as his eyes took in the grooves of the ceiling his mind hissed that she was right. And yet, this was his decision, and his wife's. _

"_My father was just too blinded by the old ways. He couldn't see that he was alienating too many. I don't want Camelot like that. I don't want a political marriage or to rule alone. I want you by my side. And that is why I placed upon your head this crown." _

_He fingered it delicately. "Because my mother loved my father and I know he did feel the same for her too. Yes, he had an affair, we obviously know now. It brought Morgana to this world. But I know he loved my mother too. I know he had to mean much to her. I just…I feel that has to be the truth._

"_But he would not have approved of this, of me. You know that's true."_

_Arthur's look was troubled with perhaps some belief, but then conviction quickly replaced it. This was his decision, not his father's. _

_He lifted the crown, placing it back upon his wife's head, turning her slowly, getting her to focus upon her reflection, and his behind her. "I know that you are the only Queen I've ever desired. I don't want it to be about political alliance. I want a partner, someone who listens to me, and who tells me what I need to hear. You've done that with me Guinevere from the beginning." _

_He rounded her waist with his hands again, gently touched her cheek with his lips. "I love you. I know much has happened in the past weeks that we probably still need to deal with rightly, but I don't care to do this alone. I care to do it with my wife by my side. You are my one true Queen, Guinevere. You are now Camelot's."_

_She turned to him, tears at her lids. "And your father?"_

_He shook his head. "He did not know you well enough. That's all."_

_His lips found hers in a drizzle of passion. Hers answered his. Hands touched face, found material. Clenched tight. As they pressed into each other. He removed the crown from her head, put it firmly down upon the wardrobe's shelf and backed with her to the bed. Their bed now. Adorned for the occasion with petals of roses and wildflowers. For years he had desired to be with her like this. It was so hard building in him, his fervor of feeling, he had to temper it, reminding himself that his wife would always be his partner, that she deserved his patience. _

_But when he indeed tempered it down she clutched his cheeks, her nails just faintly scraping, giving him pain and pleasure of shivers. _

"_Don't slow down."_

"_But-_

_Her precious fingertips pressed over his mouth. The fever was in her dark eyes. "I have waited to be with you like this for so long. In the woods I thought I'd never see you again."_

_As her voice broke, he clutched her to him, feeling her breasts push against his chest. The chainmail felt hot and awkward. He pointed to it pleadingly and felt her fingers finally release it from his body. _

_He got up on the bed, pulling her with him, sitting her down in front of him. He grasped some of the petals in his fingers, rained them down upon her body, watching as one caught at where her dress met her chest. He pressed his fingers against it intimately, feeling her responding shudder. As he whispered, "I'm sorry."_

_No need to tell her why. No need to state anymore about the past weeks. She just nodded, holding his chin, her fingertips carving into his skin their love. This was how their marriage would start. With quiet forgiveness. With fervently built passion that had been suppressed for far too long. Now here in their shared chambers they could release it all. Succumb to the wonder and complexity of each other. _

_Moments to disrobe, to discover each other's bodies. Her fingers explored his muscle, squeezed and frolicked. He felt his breath quicken, his hands wanting to venture just as much. It took him years to realize that the pretty princesses who tried to gain his heart were not enough. Something was always missing. _

_But when he realized that was her, a handmaiden, not a princess, but a woman of such conviction, such excitement because she wasn't easy to predict, he saw all her hidden beauties. He saw them come out more and more as she gained physical confidence, as she became a truly amazing woman. _

_But now, bared to him, it was even more prevalent. Sitting upon the bed, surrounded by colorful petals, he could see it. Feel it. His fingers found the flat plane of her stomach. Advanced to her ribs, feeling the bone's soft yet unyielding pressure for she was not so thin that it took over her body. And then her breasts. Full. Round. Reacting to his first touch. Giving to his hands. To his wandering fingers._

_He knew in that moment more than ever his choice was sound. Sexually, gratifyingly they'd share this bed. But it went beyond to love… _

_As his fingers found her point of pleasure, as her thighs wrapped him in moments later, as they thrust and rocked together into the most intimate dance he'd ever been part of, a joined battle of carnal beauty, he knew as hard as it had been, the wait had been worth it…_

_Finally, in a rush of capitulation, of frenzied almost messy, painful, pleasurable explosion, he gathered it all together solidly. It didn't matter who might disagree with this decision. Their outside beliefs made no sense to him. He loved her so much more now than ever before._

_More than he could ever express in words._

_Only the truest most veracity of expression could be here. In shared chambers…_

"Mmmm…"

Arthur let the memory drift away rapidly of their first night as husband and wife. She seemed to be waking. He pushed his elbow into the mattress, waiting impatiently, and head up.

"Guin-

"Mmm…"

Her eyes slowly opened and she focused on him, making Arthur's smile ring out.

"Arthur?"

"Yes." He breathed fast, relieved. Gaius said she would make a full recovery, but it felt so much better to have her fully awake in their bed, to see her eyes finally alert and responding.

"Mmmm…" She felt her head with a frown. There was a slight bump there from her hitting the floor or being hit by something. He wasn't clear on that, just knew his father inflicted it.

He reached forward, touching her head gingerly. "You hit it. Or something hit it."

She looked at him questioningly.

Arthur gave out a troubled sigh. "I've been keeping something from you. For more than a few days. I've-

He faltered, feeling her fingers touch at his temple, seeing her frown upon her face. "What do you mean? Why do you seem so troubled? Why do I not remember coming here? The last days-

He cut her off gently, pressing his hand against her breast. "Because you've been in Gaius's care for some days now. You were attacked in the hallways…by my father's ghost."

Her eyes widened, her breath clutching some as she started to slowly, hazily remember. Gaius said that might still be a bit of a side effect and to keep a close eye on it in the night. If her breathing altered too drastically, send for him right away. So far, thankfully, nothing. And Gaius said it probably wouldn't happen, but it didn't keep Arthur from worrying.

"The hallways…something dragged me. Things were falling and I…there was this presence…it…"

"Shhh…" He whispered gently and finally confessed it. "That was him. My father. His ghost. You see…I released it."

He told her about the elderly magical woman and the horn. He told her how he used it to summon his father. And he told her how he looked back when he shouldn't have.

When he was done with that part, he saw his wife's frown. "Gaius should have told you of that danger."

"I think he forgot to."

"Not a good enough excuse." Gwen told him plainly and he smiled softly. It was like her to not allow neglect to be passed by so easily.

"Well…he is getting older and he helped us return my father to the spirit world." He told her about that part now, and he told her he was sorry he summoned his father in the first place, that he kept everything from her.

"Why did you keep it from me?" Gwen asked sharply.

Arthur shook his head. "I knew you'd probably not agree with it. Or be concerned about me. You know better than anyone what the anniversary of his death means to me. Guinevere, I just wanted one more chance to see him, but I swear if I knew it would put you in danger, that it-

Gently, she cut him off, pressing her hand over his lips, simply asking, "And now? Do you still covet that chance? You used the horn. You shut away his spirit. Do you regret that at all?"

It barely took him a second to start shaking his head. "No. My father made too many mistakes. Ruled by fear and hatred more than love and strength. I'm not perfect. I'm still finding my way with your guidance in this, but I believe in what we've set up together. Peace is not weakness. It bolsters the kingdom. I love you and I love my life now. I know my father loved me, but he had a very hard time of showing it and he ruled by fear. I miss him. I know he did cruel things. But I miss him.

And yet, he is not good for this kingdom anymore. I told him. He had his turn. Now it's mine. I am King. And you're my Queen. I regret nothing."

She smiled softly, sadly, her dark long curls shadowing her face in the dim light of the glowing hearth. "You rule with conviction then, yes?"

He looked at her questioningly, feeling her hand press against his waist, climb up and linger on his chest. "With belief, Arthur? In us. In what Camelot is now. In what we confide and experience here in our shared chambers. You believe in that? You hold conviction in that, yes?"

He got it now. He didn't tell her because yes he knew she would be worried, but even more-so she might feel some disappointment, disagreement.

She was patiently telling him he could no longer look back. It wasn't just about releasing a ghost. It was about wanting the past that was never so perfect anyway. This was their Camelot now that they ruled together over. His relationship with his knights, with his servant, with his wife, was strength, not weakness. Not living in fear of others, of superstitions was strength. Loving her…

"I hold conviction in that Guinevere. For I have you by my side. What stronger conviction could there be?"

She sighed softly at that and he kissed her, a slow trickle of passion before he stopped it, kissed her brow and lay down with her on their bed.

His bane still lingered. Not so much a ghost. More a shaking of his own uncertainties.

But it was quiet for now. Quiet as he lay with his wife. In total relief. Total gratitude.

Total conviction in their union.

Their shared life together.

It was the strength he had had over his father.

For his heart opened bravely.

While his father's had closed up fearfully.

_This_ was Arthur's conviction…

Peace

And

Love.


	4. Home

**Shared Chambers:** _**Home**_

**Rating:** T

**Characters/Pairing:** Arthur/Gwen {slight Merlin in this one and OC}

**Word Count:** 4,874

**Warnings/Spoilers:** spoilers for 5.01-5.04/ mature situations, not too explicit

**Author's Note:** This is another 'Chambers' fic, filling in some of those A/G moments of 5.04: Another's Sorrow. Thanks for all the lovely feedback/follows etc…

**TTT**

The fire within the hearth was just a dim glow. The light upon the room was minimal. The bed coverings contained just a pair, the man holding the woman's waist, the woman clasping to his hand in sleep. They slumbered close, quietly. His faint snore was one that during the years of marriage she had grown accustomed to. If it reached the annoying proportion she had a little trick of tapping his nose. It always got him to stir a bit grumpily, moving his arms around until finally he settled back down and snored just a little less loudly.

His fingers had climbed from the blankets in the night to cup her chest lightly, but possessively. It held one breast now with sleeping enjoyment. Their bodies were so close together; it would be easy to feel his leg, her thigh, his manhood, at ease for now, her toes pressed against his ankles. They knew each other nakedly. They knew each other profoundly. Many conversations were shared here. Many stirrings of passion.

But now. Just sleep. Quiet eased slumber, until the noise, until the stirrings below wakened one.

"What is that?" Arthur lifted his head, the sleepiness drifting quite rapidly. He felt his wife's breast at the cup of his hand. Unintentionally he squeezed with reaction to the noise. It took her only moments to be awake too, her own hand coming down upon his, feeling him there, but even more-so feeling his alarm.

"It sounds like it's from downstairs."

He released her and made his way determinedly to the window, seeing a flurry of activity on the steps below. "I need to find out what's going on." He started to head to the door, but then she was up, her hands encircling and pressing firmly upon his chest. "Arthur, you are not dressed enough."

He looked down, giving a roll of his eyes self-deprecatingly and then turning back, "Neither are you."

She wasn't. Earlier he had a trying day. She surprised him by being in bed already when he came in, wearing nothing but his blue tunic. So now he only wore a thin feeble pair of breeches. Needless to say, they had gotten into some marital physical exertions earlier.

"Right. But I'm not the one who was rushing to the door."

He gave her an acknowledging look, before rummaging around and finding them, his white tunic and pants.

"I want to see too." She told him, helping him get the tunic down his chest. He gave her a glance over of busied appreciation. "Not like that you won't."

She grimaced, pressing a fast kiss against his lips. "Find out what it is. I'll be there in a moment."

**TTT**

It was many moments later that they were back in their chambers together. Merlin had come by earlier to tell Arthur of Mithian's condition after he found out it was she who had come through the gates in the middle of the night. Now after changing into her nightgown, more suitable wear while Camelot had visitors, Gwen noticed how her husband was sitting at the table, quill in hand, but no writing getting done.

"You should come to bed. There's nothing more you can do there."

She watched as he twirled the quill in his hand mindlessly, the same as he flipped the sword often when fighting. But that of course was with brain control. "Why do you think she came? So late? I asked Merlin. He gave me no answers. I wish I could ask her. But Gaius says she needs to rest."

Gwen knew her husband well. He sometimes could sleep like nothing would ever wake him, but other times he did this.

He sat at the table and tried to get the paperwork that usually annoyed him, done. But instead he just fiddled with the quill. Because his mind was so troubled. That it was troubled about Mithian could be thought as interesting, considering years ago he nearly married the woman.

Well, Arthur told her that was basically just a way to tell his heart to shut up. It didn't work.

She gave a sigh, moving forward, taking the quill out of his hand and seating herself upon his lap with wifely privilege. His hands didn't move to hold her until she pressed an intimate, somewhat noisy kiss upon his lips, affectionate puckering, sliding mouths, and then his hands were firmly on her waist.

"You'll drive yourself mad trying to figure what this is about." She caressed his chin and cheek with her fingers. "In the morning we will know. Alright?"

He looked up into her eyes. She could see the wonder there as he assessed her quietly, leaving his troubling thoughts for a moment. "How can you always be so calm? It's surprised me from that time I stayed with you, until now. How much peace you have."

One hand pressed into her back, settling over and lifting at the soft material of her nightgown. The other found her neck and moved down between her breasts, tunneling with distracted desire into the valley there.

She sighed at the warm intimate pressure, fingers latching into his golden blonde hairs. "You have the same peace. You just are not always aware of it."

"I'm always jumping up and ready to do battle. We go through those endless hours of meeting with nobles from here and there and I'm ready to jump out the window from boredom. It's only your hand discreetly pressing down upon my arm holding me back."

She smiled, one hand leaving his hair to stroke at his thin white tunic, even further to his chest as she kissed his cheek, whispered against his face. "Come to bed Arthur."

"Mmmm…" He moaned, kissing her neck sleepily. "I didn't finish my work here." It was a weak protest.

She clasped his hand, pulling and getting him to stand with her. "In the morning. After we talk to the Princess. Now come…"

"What if she's in some kind of trouble?" He asked suddenly as they moved to the bed, getting her to stop.

Gwen nodded patiently, hand pressing against her husband's chest. "We will find out in the morning. For now she is safe here in Camelot."

He brought his head up and down in understanding, but she could feel it in his body as they lay down together, he upon his back and her curling into his side. Arthur was still worried. She felt no jealousy for it. Arthur never loved Mithian, but he liked her, cared about her.

It was what Gwen loved most about her husband, his open heart.

It was the true value a king should have she believed. His greatest love, his greatest passion was reserved just for her, here in their shared chambers and elsewhere. But that didn't constrict his heart from being open to others in a gesture of kindness. And for that she was grateful, and so was Camelot.

**TTT**

A night later, Arthur sat at the table in his chainmail, going over the plans one more time. His wife had just asked him with concern if this was about Odin which he quickly, but patiently denied. Really it wasn't of course. He wanted to help Mithian and her father.

Now he looked up, seeing Guinevere sitting on the corner of their bed, watching him strongly. But of course as soon as their eyes had a glimmer of connecting she looked away, like she was fussing with something else.

Giving a sigh, Arthur walked over to her.

"You don't believe me."

"What?"

He stopped her from fussing with the bed coverings, taking her hand into his as he sat on the bed's corner with her. "About Odin. You think I want revenge still, don't you?"

She simply gave him a pensive look, bordering on disapproval. He was well accustomed to it as he nodded. "Yes…I knew it. You do."

She said nothing still. And Arthur sighed heavily. Guinevere's silence could rattle the nerves of the highest dignitary. She was excellent at it. "I don't take joy in killing anyone Guinevere. I hope you know that."

She frowned, touching his hands, the chainmail too unyielding. "I do. Arthur, take this off?"

She asked, but she wanted it off. No question. And well now he did too. "Yes. I can't wear it all night."

"You need sleep if you are to ride out so early."

"I know."

It was said that children sometimes slept with security blankets. He had one that his mother had gifted him with before he was born. Interestingly, he would find out years later, after marrying, it had been woven by his wife's never known mother. And so now it was lovingly folded within the wardrobe.

So this, his chainmail, was sort of his security. It made him feel strong, ready to fight. And he wanted to fight now. He was hungry for it. But he meant what he told his wife too. Killing brought no joy.

It was about protection for him. It was something his heart had always contained. He never wanted friends or allies to be hurt. He desired so fervently to shield, even if it took him away from the wife he loved. Even if it played cards with his own life.

She lifted away the chainmail carefully, unbolting it. He could feel how she took cautious thought to make sure it didn't tangle in his hair. And then she helped him remove his gambeson, until he was just in his red tunic.

Emotionally, Arthur moved against his wife, seeking her arms and finding them wrap around him warmly. He clutched her shoulders, resting his chin. "I try to always fight for what is right. What is noble. I don't seek vengeance."

She caressed his hair with her fingers, holding him securely as she whispered for him to hear, "I understand that. I know you are not bloodthirsty. But you too have a past with Odin that is filled with pain for both of you. I want you to just be careful. Camelot needs its king." She gave a trembling sigh. "I need my husband."

"Guinevere." Arthur pulled away from her now, seeing his wife's rare display of vulnerability.

"I always come back to you, don't I?" He lifted her chin firmly, but gently, to get her eyes to focus upon him.

"Yes you do. Bruised and scraped, more scars than I care to see, but you do always come back. Alive. Smiling."

He smiled now, before pressing a passionate kiss against her lips, feeling her tongue circling his with hunger as he delved deeper. Ever so deeper, before letting go, feeling the moisture of her sweet taste still lingering against his lips as he pulled away to tell her, "And I will again. I don't know what will happen when I face Odin. I just want you to know that this is truly about Nemeth and Mithian. Whatever quarrel I have with Odin, I will not let it take over the true purpose."

Her lips curved, but her eyes looked not so certain.

Arthur held his wife close, thinking of her usual peace, his heart wanting to use it.

For his mind, no matter what he said, was still stoutly focused on the man he'd finally confront. The man who killed his father. The man whose son…he killed.

Odin.

**TTT**

A baby was in her arms.

Gwen cradled the child with a wondering smile. It was an interesting predicament. Lady Sandra, wife to Sir Stephen, was off visiting someone in town. Her maiden suddenly took ill. Gwen's maiden offered to help, but then Gwen ushered her off, saying that the Lady Sandra was supposed to be back within moments. She'd tend to the baby.

Well moments turned to an hour. And now she had just finished humming the child to sleep, feeling rushes of happiness at having a baby in her arms. It took away some of the worry of having your husband away for so long, possibly in grave danger.

She peered down to look. The little infant girl, wrapped into a lovely embroidered blanket was resting at her breast and shoulder. Gwen spontaneously pressed a kiss against the child's forehead. She and Arthur wanted children, but Gwen's mind often resisted having one yet.

It horrified her to think of having a child with her husband battling against the consequences of him going off on these missions. If he wasn't to return, then what would happen? What would she do with a baby that had his eyes or his hair? How would she go on?

She couldn't fathom it and so her body seemed to put up a wall and she didn't complain about it. As for Arthur, he never gave question. He loved her so much, he was content for them to have a child whenever the time was right.

A knock came at the door, stirring Gwen out of her thoughts. She looked down upon the sleeping babe. "Well that must be your mother. Come now."

She moved to the door, seeing Lady Sandra there, practically spitting out apology.

"Oh my Lady. I am so sorry." She rushed to get the baby from Gwen's arms, but Gwen just lifted her hand patiently. "Oh now stop. No apology needed. It is not like I couldn't have had one of the servants take her. I welcomed the chance." She smiled down at the precious sleeping girl and then gave her back to her mother with a lingering sigh.

She watched as her mother held her reverently, stating spontaneously. "I'm sure you and the King will have your own to care for soon." She put her hand over her mouth. "Oh I'm sorry for being so presump-

"Sandra." Gwen pressed her hand against the other woman's arm. "Enough. You are right. We will when it is time." Gwen gave another sigh and moved away from the noble woman, standing at the window pensively.

Sandra started to excuse herself. "Well, yes then, I should go. Thank you so much-

"Do you worry for him? Do you ever fear that Stephen may not return?"

Gwen turned back now, feeling a bit of moisture in her eyes, trying to wipe at it, but it found its way down her cheek. "Do you ever, Sandra?"

The noble lady holding the baby to her breast, walked forward. "Every time he rides out."

Gwen nodded, holding out her hands, feeling Sandra take them. She whispered, "We must all be strong for each other. I am always scared that Arthur might-

"I know. I know how you feel." This time Sandra didn't apologize. It was truly a shared emotion. Their husbands rode out and they never knew if-

Interruption came. The council was meeting in a few minutes. A dignitary from another land would soon be there. An issue in the citadel needed to be dealt with.

Obligations of royalty. Political needs that made her lift her hand to her face as Gwen brushed away the stray tear. But she clasped Sandra's hands for a second longer, whispering for only her ears to hear, "Thank you. Having a child to tend to was just what my heart needed."

Sandra smiled emotionally, whispering back, "We will celebrate when they come home."

Gwen's peace returned, she nodded, before Sandra left, "Yes, we will."

She pushed the pangs of her heart backward, mind at full force. She needed to be Queen now.

She needed to always be the ruler in charge in her husband's absence.

Temporary…

Absence. Her heart squealed.

Needing to believe.

**TTT**

Home.

Odin accepted his pledge of peace. A truce between their kingdoms now held. It was Arthur's endeavor to continue it, building up alliances, building up Camelot to always be safe, always have a net.

Mithian was with her father who would heal so that they could rule Nemeth securely again. Everything was in place. So now, he shrugged off his clothing after Merlin assisted him with getting his armor off. He wrapped a towel around his waist and waited for his servant to finish getting the water prepared.

When Merlin told him it was ready, both he and servant turned as someone new walked into the room. Arthur watched her with scrutinizing eyes. She was wearing one of his favorite dresses. He didn't even bother choosing just one. The woman could be wearing a shapeless sheet and make not only his heart stir, but other important body elements.

Now she was in blue satin that plunged at her necklines to reveal a tasteful hint of her full luscious breasts. It locked in her waist to accent everything that was free of the golden blue hanging belt. She in it, stirred his loins feverishly.

Merlin, who usually needed a brick's force of a clue, seemed to have it now gratefully, because he looked from him to her with a sheepish smile upon his face.

Arthur paid him little heed, taking in his wife's beauty as she no doubt was taking him in, with nothing but his towel on.

Sometimes the hardest parts of leaving Camelot were the nights. For years he had grown accustomed to sleeping alone. Now he was selfishly blessed to have her by his side every night he was at home. It made the ground feel harder when his bedroom was the wood. It made the peace of nature loud when he yearned for her soft breath's lullaby. And even with all his men around, Merlin somewhere nearby, it made him lonely. Missing love and more.

"Well. Guess I'll be going then. Er, my Lady."

Arthur, his eyes still heavily on her, watched as Guinevere acknowledged his servant with a friendly smile, telling him, "Thank you Merlin. For tending to Arthur's bath. I think I shall now assist."

Merlin grinned knowingly. Arthur could feel it directed right at him, but clearing his throat loudly, he chose to ignore it.

"Well then I'll leave you two…"

Arthur rolled his eyes. No doubt Merlin was still gauging for reaction. He wasn't going to get any.

"Alone."

"Thank you Merlin."

He could hear his wife's patient response. Arthur was looking around, getting ready to throw something if Merlin didn't stop hinting at that he got the hint, but stubbornly stayed put. Or stupidly. Either could be the case with Merlin.

"Alright…Gwen…Arthur…"

Still Arthur said nothing, although his hand was fisting. Merlin often went back and forth with it, addressing them regally and then just calling them by name. Honestly he didn't really care. "Merlin."

"Bye."

Just that one low throated warning was all it took. Merlin fully excused himself finally.

Alone, Arthur took in his wife's smile as she made her way over, assessing his current ware, or lack thereof. "I approve." She whispered, bringing her hands over his shoulders.

"Do you?" He asked teasingly.

She nodded her head slowly. "Yes. As handsome you are in all your armor, you are even more handsome with it off."

He latched onto her waist, fingers gathering and clutching the vibrant blue satin. Quickly she was up against him, her full breasts pushed up against his naked chest. She let out an excited gasp as he brought his head down to hers.

They had returned during the daylight hours, his first time seeing his wife in the presence of everyone. So all he could do was kiss her longingly, feeling her hold so fervent and then let go. Next it was just some handholding in the halls and as meaningful as that was, sharing personal space was much better.

He heard her answering moan as he didn't just kiss her, but pressed his mouth hotly, achingly against hers. After days and nights in the wood he was thirsting for her sweet moist taste. He wanted that feel where his heart beat faster and his body throbbed. Another kiss soon after, he pressed it on so far that he had her against the wall.

She looked up at him with pangs of desire, stroking his chest. "Arthur."

He told her truthfully, "When Odin threatened my life, knowing Morgana was behind it, I knew I had to surrender. I hated it, but we were outnumbered, her power greater. I knew my knights would avenge my life. I knew Camelot would be ruled properly with you strongly at the stead, Merlin in his own silly way assisting, but still…I couldn't imagine dying and never seeing you again."

"Don't." He felt her hands push against his lips, silencing him. "No more."

Her fingers were on the towel, untying it, letting it fall. And then her hands…

"Oh…" Arthur moaned. Her fingers on his chest. Between his legs. He gestured to the bath feelingly. "Join me."

She said nothing, her hands still on his body. He let out a sigh of determination, grasping the material of her dress, whispering hotly into her ear, "Turn."

"Oh." She breathed and heeded. Arthur lifted his hands. Pulled apart the hooks. Got them all done and then gathering the material with a strong grip, pulled it down to her waist. Just some bustling. He got that past too. Pushing it away impatiently and then…

Heard his wife's fervent reaction as her head came back against his shoulder. He encircled her body, cupped her breasts and gave a short squeeze.

"Arthur."

"Come." He kept hold of one, his other hand holding tightly to her waist. At the bath, he finished lowering her dress, all the rest of her attire and when she was wearing nothing, her body glowing softly from the trickle of lowering sunlight that had found its way through the curtain's tiny gap, he gently pushed her forward. She sat down in the bath and he sat down too, behind her. He lifted her chin, kissed her passionately, and then after opening his eyes, gave a giggle.

"What?" She asked.

"There's no soap in here."

"Are you sure about that?" She teased, trailing a finger down his chest.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh I think I can find something…sudsy." Her finger lowered, fondled between his legs. "And hard enough definitely."

He groaned, squeezing her waist. "Trust me. I'm a man of throbbing excitement right now."

She grinned at that. He then stated dryly. "But I'm also a man craving a bath. I'm a bit dirty, understand?

"Bad job." She grimaced.

"Yeah." He stated. Then before he could say anything else, her hands were off his body. She was carefully escaping the bathtub, and looking around the room. She looked from one side to the other and as she did her curls of hair were not the only thing bouncing around. He stared at their jiggles of plumpness.

"Do you see it Arthur?"

"Eh?"

She fisted her hands at her waist, which was more erotic than menacing when she was fully unclothed. "Are you even looking?"

"Intently."

She lowered her eyes to her breasts before giving a huff of annoyance. "Arthur!"

"Well I don't know where it is." He complained, finally looking to her face. "Merlin brought it in. Blame him. Find him." She started to go straight to the door.

Arthur gaped, yelling out anxiously, "Not like _THAT!_"

She giggled, giving him a teasing look. "Oh you are too gullible at times."

She shivered suddenly, holding her body. "And I am getting cold. You see it nowhere?"

He searched more strongly, seeing a bucket a few paces away from where she was standing. "There. That's it I bet."

It was. She brought the bucket with the soap over and carefully stepped back into the tub. Arthur moved fully against its edge to give her room to sit down. Then when she was, he frowned. "Goosebumps."

"I told you I was getting cold."

He stroked her shivering skin.

"I must warm you up."

"Yes, but first your bath. Now relax."

He did against the bath's edge, feeling the sudsy cloth being lowered to his chest. Over his dirtied arms. Circling his waist. Scrubbing at his ankles and knees.

"Ah."

He let out a gasp of pain, pushing her hand away.

Her head lowered, her hand carefully bringing it out of the water. He knew when she fully saw the bruise.

"How?"

"Odin's men. Forced me to my knees. I hit one too hard. Hurt. Hurts still now some."

She looked unhappy at that, her hand stopping its ministrations. Arthur let out a sigh, touching and grasping one of her curls. "Guinevere."

"You could have been killed."

She wouldn't look at him. "I wasn't."

"You could have been."

He gripped her waist, brought her down against his chest. Murmured in her hair. _"I wasn't."_

She held him tightly for a long time. He brought his chin over her head, looking forward, saying nothing. His words wouldn't comfort her now.

She probably would have in some ways had an easier life if she married a farmer. At least she wouldn't have to fear for his life so much.

Oh they had the spoils of royalty in the castles, servants to serve them, but they too had to serve Camelot, and that meant he couldn't just be king. He had to be warrior too. Sometimes he loved it. Other times, now that he was married, he simply prayed to return home to his wife.

Slowly her hand started moving again. The cloth crept up his legs and in between. He grasped her waist, whispering a hiss of emotion. "I need you. Now."

"I need you the same." She told him back.

He smiled softly, and grasping her waist found the other side of the tub. He pushed her up and back against it. His hands found her legs. Spread them at the thighs. Her feet were braced on the tub's bottom, but still he had to ask, "Alright?"

She simply nodded her head, and he grasped the cloth, brought the soapy suds over her body. Washed them off. And then with her wet, with her clean and him clean, he tongued his way down her chest. Caressed her breasts. Fingered her nipples. Feeling her legs bounce against him with reaction. Her hand found his hardness and held it, stroked it ever so lightly.

"I love you." She whispered against his hair. And he nodded, telling her the same. Her fingers got him hard, alert. His moved between her thighs. Rubbed. Teased. They slid in. Wet all her body. Wet even more her intimate opening. He gently pushed away her ministrations. Settled himself between her thighs, making sure his body's weight was not forcing her down.

And then, he pressed forward. Felt the walls of her womanhood enveloping him, inviting him in. She clutched his back, her fingers driving down it with the intensity of emotion that his entering her brought. He pushed in more and then…

"Arthur…" She murmured. One hand was at her waist, keeping their positions in place. The other was at the tub's edge, gripping some of her hair. Moving inside, pulling out, the water of the bath waving with their exertion, rippling over their increasingly heated bodies. He kept his eyes on her. Every time she deigned to look away, tried to close hers, he shook his head, grasping a little too tightly to her curls. "No. Guinevere, watch us. Watch your husband."

"Oh." She did, pulling him in tighter against her, scraping at his back with her zenith of need. "Arthur. Never leave me."

"_Never…"_ He echoed back, his thrusts a little faster. Deeper. Holding her in place. Held in place in kind by her fingers squeezing the skin of his back. He not letting her go. She not letting him go.

He missed her so much when he had to go away. Missed her voice, soft and low, but so full of authority. Missed her touch, always loving, giving. Missed the feel of this. Love intensely made. His manhood full of life, throbbing inside her.

And climax just on…

"Oh."

The brink. The water splashed out of the tub as she forced her lips against his shoulder to keep from crying out and he grunted it all down, his own reaction.

And when it was done, her wet against him, his manhood a passionate trickle within her, he peered over the bath's edge. Saw that they had spilled out quite a bit of soapy water.

"We made a mess."

She laughed softly at that, even more as he muttered,

"I'll get Merlin to clean it up."

She questioned dryly, "After you explain to him how all that water got out of the bathtub?"

He changed his mind rapidly. "You're right. I'll clean it myself."

She laughed some more, holding his damp head against her shoulder and breast. "I'll help you."

His teeth bit down lightly, his lips smoothing over the affected area afterward. "Mmm…home."

He could feel her holding tightly, agreeing completely.

Together. In each other's arms. Nakedly. Openly. Skin touching, caressing, fondling skin. Lips parted for the other pair of lips. Eyes closed, held in forever peace.

Love, rippling, swirling, overflowing like the water of their passionate bath.

All of it, entwined, loved and nothing more, nothing less

That they were.

Here in shared chambers

Here in their most intimate…private

Home.


	5. Completion

**Shared Chambers:** _**Completion**_

**Rating:** T

**Word Count:** 2,700+

**Warnings/Spoilers**: spoilers for series 5

**Author's Note:** The episode,5.05, had wonderful A/G scenes, but after 5.06 especially I wanted to write a little for the end, an extension maybe of A/G after they retreated to their private chambers. Hence, this. / Sorry for the wait. Thanks for your patience.

…

He watches her from the doorway, silent reverie upon his face. They've been married now for just a little past three years. He can still recall what it felt like that night to enter these chambers and close the door, her hand sliding against his waist. She kissed him then with little shyness, her lips brushing across his own with currents of long held away desire. So, he too felt his, after their time apart during the banishment.

All that feels so long ago. Now the chambers that were once his alone, have a woman's touch. No longer is everything about practicality, but also beauty. Dressing furniture adorns the sides of the bed. The linens upon the mattress are no longer so deep red and gold, but tempered too by the rose of flowers. The changing screen has moved from the corner to the side of the bed. Basically beyond that point is their private area. He likes now that he can laze upon the bed and watch her change out of her attire with no hindrance. His wife's body, although petite, is filled with luscious curves and dips. Her curls, when they fall against her henna hued skin, are one of the most enticing things ever.

Now she is dressed in her nightgown. It's a soft shade of cream and milky white, sprinkles of flowers. Its flowing material bounces against her hips with luscious life. Her body cambers there quite nicely. Her fingers are reaching for the bottom of her hair, twisting the ends. He's always a little bit fascinated when she does this. After all, her dark hair is filled with ringlets of wonder that his fingers quite love. So why all the fuss?

She's humming softly. She's humming one of those medieval tunes the minstrels play at their occasional banquets, celebrating a conquered feat of Camelot or a holiday of recognition. It is softly lyrical. Since marrying her, he has learnt that his wife's voice is tuned to song very well.

Her body turns slowly, before her eyes face him. She smiles with slow gradual splendor. He smiles the same, closing the door behind to give them privacy. He's wearing his red tunic, so he unbelts it from his waist. Then he pulls it away from his chest. Her fingertips still right at the ends of her hair, she gazes at him with silent appreciation and a tiny flickering frown.

Being a warrior king means a muscled body. It also means a collection of scars. No new ones now, but still whenever she sees the line of them, her smile breaks for a bit. He's told her often enough it is the price of being a man in these times, a ruler of kingdom. So she's accepted it with just a hint of disapproval. He looks around and sees it on the edge of their bed as she returns to the twisting of the bottom sections of her hair. He pulls the thin material over his chest, the white tunic molding the sinew of his toned build. He walks further into the room and sits down on the side of the bed, observing as she moves closer to the window, still faintly humming as she continues the weaving of her nebulous curls.

"Why do you do that?"

She turns around at the question, raising her eyebrows some. "What?"

Arthur points forward. "You do it most every night, except those when sleep is far from our minds." His blue eyes look to her suggestively.

She returns the gesture with hint of excitement.

"Why do you bind your hair? It's not like you could get it to curl anymore."

She laughs softly at that, walking toward him. He watches with appreciation how the nightgown bounces against her full swaying hips. He loves her womanly cantor. Her knees bump against his as she comes in front. He lifts his hands to her waist, presses his fingers into the feathery folds. He feels her hand lift to his face, brush across his hair.

"I don't do it for that reason, Arthur. I bind it to keep it from tangling in the middle of the night so it is no fuss in the morning. That is why my husband."

"Oh…" He answers with new understanding, pulling at the nightgown's material, hearing her flutter of laughter as he gets her to sit upon his lap with silent physical command. "I never knew that."

His lips tinker with her cheeks. Soft and wet against her skin. He loves how she tastes, clean, flowery, no doubt from the floral scented soap she prefers to use. His head pushes against her chin, his hair lifting against her face. She sighs, not protesting at his closeness.

The Disir took him away from home for a week about. Before that was everything with Mithian. The one thing he doesn't like about those kinds of adventures, is that they mean days and nights away from here. Their private chambers. His wife's closeness. Before he was married, sleeping in the wood was not such an ordeal. Now, even though he is silent about it, he often finds himself missing the sweet pressure of having her lie beside. Even if she is fully on the other end of the mattress, it is her presence that makes him calm. And those nights when they enjoy the physical aspect of being married, he loves the way her naked glistening skin feels against his. Their bodies ever so supple to each other's in those moments.

His lips climb. Travel. A sensuous journey up her chin. Past her cheeks. Landing on her temple. Finding her eyebrows, lids. Kissing. Dining upon love. He can't even imagine what it would be like to lose her momentarily. To not have her close. His hands, have since marriage, found possession of her body whenever they can. They covet every inch. Womanly breasts. Tempestuous hips. Sexual locking thighs. Even her delicate gracious hands. He knows his wife's divine constitution intimately. But still when they shed it all and she opens herself up to him, and he enters, his mind turns to carnal delirium. She is his everything in this world.

"I love you…"He breaks from all his affections, whispering upward, peering into her dark eyes. "I love you…so so much Guinevere."

She caresses his cheeks with her tender enamored fingers. How can there be so much pleasure in them? How they touch him. How he feels his body tighten. His manhood growl. Her eyes. Calescent splendor. She is his. And he hers. When they make love sometimes he thrusts so hard to be outside of his body, to soar inside her.

It's not just man's hormonal need for sex mind you. It's more. He had those kinds of drives when he was younger, had infatuations with a princess here or there. He had a young man's urges then. That's not what this is. Never has been. Swears, fell in love with Guinevere's mind before her body. Or maybe it was a little of both. Maybe it was just so intermingled he can't even classify it. Because that was what falling in love with her was like. Losing his control of mind so viciously that his heart and fever of feeling took over.

Now he has more control of that. Now he's not some lovesick fool. But still when she looks upon him like she is now, he is too blissfully happy, too feverish, too abandoned of sense, too in love.

"I love you too Arthur…" Her sweet hands caress him, coil into his hair, and express their feeling on his skin. He catches at her hair, feels where she has yet to braid it entirely. He wants to assist. "Teach me."

"What?" She smiles just a bit.

"How to braid it. Your hair."

So she shows him, how to part it, how to get it into three sections. Then how to twist. So he begins to follow the lead. She is a divine teacher. He tangles it up a few times, but then starts to get the hang of it. He loves the task because even though Guinevere's hair is full of ringlets, it's actually quite soft too as much as it is thick. It's like a man's play. He's so deep into it when she whispers something that surprises him.

"Merlin seemed troubled when you came back."

He sighs, letting out, "From the Disir you mean?"

"Yes."

Well he had wanted a little more of the mundane before his mind turned to jelly, which it can with her, so now he gets it. Guinevere is a passionate woman, but also notices when anyone at all, especially those they are closest too, is not at usual. It's something for him to love about her for sure. "I noticed too. But every time I try to talk to him he clams up. Maybe you should try. You've always had a good friendship."

She lets out a sigh. "Yes, tomorrow I will."

He finishes the braiding and turns her around with his hands. "Good. Now that we've dealt with that…"

He means it. Merlin is more than servant no matter how much Arthur does not admit it out loud. He is his friend too, probably the best one he's ever had.

But at the moment, looking into his wife's eyes again, seeing how the braiding exposes her beautiful neck, he is far from thoughts about friendship. His hand gripping her waist tightly, he presses kisses along her neck. Before pressing into it more profoundly. His tongue slides out. Slides over. Warm wet sweeps of predilection. Mindset concentrated on just this. Loving her. Loving this poetically lush skin she inhabits. And that makes him let out some dry laughter.

She pulls away from his tittering lips. "So now I amuse you?"

He captures her head, possessing her cheeks. "No. Not that. Just, hadn't told you yet. Seemed silly to. When my father's ghost was around…"

Her brow furrows. Her chest rises with reaction.

"Oh." He rubs his hand over her arm comfortingly. "It's a funny moment of it I swear. Doesn't include him." Arthur loved his father all his life. Still does. But he realizes now too that his father's love was quite twisted at times. And ruined by all his fears. They made him cruel far too often. Especially what his ghost did to his wife. So Arthur understands her troubling look right now.

"Leon found Merlin and me. Wondering what we were up to. And so Merlin, idiot, told him he was teaching me poetry."

"Poetry?" Gwen questions, before letting out a round of laughter.

He laughs with her, his smile full. "Yes."

When Guinevere recovers she touches his cheeks. He looks up to her grin. "You are good at many things Arthur. But poetry is not one of them."

He has to begrudgingly admit. Years ago he wrote her some as an apology after that crazy love enchantment with Vivian. It wasn't until after he left her tiny home that she read it. And would later tell him it made her cry and laugh at the same.

He decides something, in his spontaneous manner, grasping her waist and lifting her from his lap. She protests, 'Arthur'. But he ignores it and moves to the table. There he finds two glasses and the bottle. He pours the contents into just one and returns to the bed, scooping her back up into his grasp and getting her to be seated upon his lap again. A small kiss of her lips, and then, "Wine."

"Mmm…" She murmurs. Guinevere does not care for Ale or anything such, but like him she does indeed enjoy a bit of wine's velvety taste. Lifting the glass to her lips, he watches as they part to drink. Then he takes the glass for his own enjoyment, before putting it down near their feet. He gazes upon her mouth. It's just a bit redder now. Just a bit wetter.

Arthur plunges, letting everything mingle. His taste. Hers. Then he just looks into her eyes, feeling the excitement of being married, of being loved, of being desired. So sumptuous is this feeling. So passionate and open. He grasps her closer, hearing her tiny shudder, hearing her even stronger moan. He looks away for a moment, brings his hand down. Reaches for the glass. Still some left.

He dips his fingers in, lets the velvety liquid dabble onto them. Then seeing her watching his actions, her eyes full orbs of erotic wonder, he kisses her, fingers pressing the warm wetness against the opening of her nightgown, down to the curve of her breasts. And she pants against him. She heaves. Like the beautiful passionate woman she is. Like the wife he feels zealously fortunate to have.

Oh yes. A man's most voluble fortunes she is. Everything in these private chambers she gives him. Now as she grips him close. Urgently presses her fingers almost painfully against his thigh, up higher to his manhood. And when he pulls her away some, her eyes, oh her eyes, like calescent balls of fire. All for him. All this is greedily his. And all he wants to covet back. Show her. Always.

He presses into her nightgown. Feels her push at his pants. He pulls the feathery material away from her body. Feels her pull off his trousers. Bodies exposed. He can't stop kissing with his lips. Even more can't stop giving protracted sweeps of his tongue. That make her vibrate against him. Make her fingers claim so persistently. So ardently.

Naked, in between all the movement, the red and gold silken covers, sheets tease so profoundly he rolls against them, against her. Heaving, the friction so almost impossible to take. She's open. Her eyes exuding libertine desire. So he pushes forward with her passionate permission. Impels into his wife all he so salaciously feels. And as he does, he feels her clinging. He feels her holding tight to the rocking of their bodies. He feels not only her strong beautiful love, but his own, pulsing, throbbing, and thrusting. It's in every piece and fiber of his body. Love.

Love of wine they share.

Love of caring for friends.

Love of kingdom.

Love of duty.

And this.

Love of

Each other.

Of being bound to each other.

Of being inside her. Of she seizing him within so for the moment there is no escape. None he entreats.

Love.

Calescent. Dripping. Crown of completion.

…

An hour or so later he is sleepy and he can feel so is she. It's a bitterly cold evening, whereas even with body warmth they will feel the chill in the morning, so she wears her nightgown again and he's in his sleepwear too, thin trousers, and white tunic. Murmuring, he presses against her, holding his wife's waist, feeling the feathery material under his fingers. It's what he misses most when away from Camelot. Her warmth. Her softness. The curls of her hair. He presses himself into it all now, kissing her neck tenderly.

"Good night Guinevere."

He can feel her smile as his fingers graze over her mouth and she kisses them. "Good night Arthur. May your dreams be sweet ones."

He smiles at that, letting out a bit naughtily, "And licentious ones?"

She laughs a bit, before nudging her teeth against his finger.

"Ah." He reacts.

And he feels her hold his hand to her breast as she whispers. "Only if they are of me."

He reacts rapidly, with fervor of feeling. "Who else would they be of? You're my only desire."

Her smile again as she lifts his fingers for him to feel it. And that makes him smile before he lets out another murmur, closes his eyes. "The sweetest of dreams to you too my love."

Warm, pressed around and into her, he feels his mind let go. Within their private chambers he has all he has ever truly, of heart, needed, within his arms.

Thus…

Sleep is so eased.

So blessed.


End file.
